


The Sword in the Darkness

by JoanneValjean



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Actually winter is here, Bran is a tree, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Future Fic, Homosexuality, Incest, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Marriage, Multi, Pedophilia, Period-Typical Sexism, Period-Typical Underage, Rape, Violence, White Walkers, king in the north, winter is coming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 09:14:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4619856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoanneValjean/pseuds/JoanneValjean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is nearly a century since the end of the War of the Five Kings.  The kingdoms are now free and independent after the toppling of the Baratheon/Lannister dynasty and the failed conquest of Westeros by Daenerys Targaryen, whose descendants live in Dragon's Bay as rulers.  </p><p>The White Walkers were thought to be defeated, but the winds of winter are blowing to the South.  </p><p>The Blackfyres were thought gone, but they seek to do what their Targaryen counterparts could not.</p><p>A king is murdered in Westeros, and justice is sought.</p><p>Who will survive the game of thrones?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sword in the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on fanfiction.net by myself.

"No winter lasts forever, no spring skips its turn."

-Hal Borland

Winter is coming.

Lyanna Stark, of all people, knew these words.

As a member of the Northern house, and second in line for the throne of the North, she kept them close to her heart at all times. Winter was coming, she thought as she took a stroll around the walls of Winterfell and a few flakes of snow fell from the grey sky. The longest summer since Aegon's Conquest was ending, and the snows were coming heavier and heavier every day. The grey stone walls' cracks were filling with it, and servants had to push it away instead of doing their normal duties. Whenever Lyanna tried to help, they always pushed her away. She wasn't allowed to help, they said. Her brother would be angry.

Her brother, she would snort. He wasn't fit to rule rats, let alone the North.

Brandon was rash and foolish, never making decisions that benefited their house or smallfolk. All his decisions only made he himself profit. This included the time he had broken his betrothal with Mira Tully to marry some whore from Wintertown named Myra. Close in name, though not in beauty; the Tully girl was fat and ugly, but Myra was a copper-haired goddess. Myra hadn't lasted long, bearing Brandon a daughter that he had had abandoned in the snow, despite both Myra and Lyanna's protests, and the whore had simply disappeared. It had been up to Lyanna to prevent a debacle with the Tullys over the broken engagement, since her brother had been sulking and busy fucking.

She should have been the queen, not him.

Although she was only eight and ten, she knew this well.

Lyanna herself was not betrothed to anyone, to her shame. Her father had told her she was maybe going to marry Godric Tyrell or the Martell heir. Though she had had no desire to leave the North, she loved her father so much that she had nodded and said, "Yes, father."

A shame that she had to bend to the will of men, Lyanna thought. If she was the queen, she would make it so that women and men were equal. Being friends and exchanging letters with Elianne Martell had gotten the idea in her head of the genders being equal. Elianne wasn't heir to Dorne, but she was second in line, as was Lyanna. The only people ahead of Lyanna in the succession were her brother, Brandon, and her younger brother, only seven years of age, Rickard. Even her cousin, born the same day as her, Ned, was behind her in succession. Ned was much like Brandon was, interested in women and fucking more than anything else.

Rickard was more interested in dogs and cats than he was in his lessons. He was a sweet little child, but Lyanna knew that Rickard would only suffer for it. The world didn't take too kindly to the innocent. And if Brandon failed to find a suitable wife and produce heirs with her, little Rickard would be king. He needed to learn to be a leader. And it was never too early to start.

~o~

Lyanna walked into Rickard's room. It was a bit smaller than hers or Brandon's, but the little prince had filled it with blue, soft, fluffy things that would keep him comfortable. He had a cat that had recently had kittens, three of them. The runt of the litter, which he had named Snow after her pure white fur, stumbled over to Lyanna, who knelt and picked the kitten up. Lyanna took a seat on the floor next to Rickard, moving her dark hair out of the way when Snow tried to claw at it.

"How is my favourite little brother today?" Lyanna asked, moving her grey skirts so they wouldn't bunch up under her. She set Snow back on the ground.

Rickard had just set Soot, the black kitten, on his own dark hair. Stone, the grey kitten, crawled around on his brown pants, little claws digging into the fabric. "I'm playing with Soot and Stone and Snow!"

"So you are," Lyanna chuckled, leaning over and giving Rickard a kiss on the forehead. Lyanna had been forced to act as a sort of mother figure to Rickard, since their mother was long dead, having passed on before Rickard was old enough to remember her. "And how are they?"

"Well, they're all just kind of crawling around..." Rickard said slowly, taking Soot off of his head and putting him back on the floor, doing the same with Stone. "They're getting big."

"They are," Lyanna nodded, setting Snow next to her brothers. "Rickard, we need to talk. Would you like to go for a walk?"

Rickard nodded, standing at the same time as Lyanna. Lyanna grabbed him his black cloak and fastened the clasp around his neck, so he would be warm. Rickard put his feet into leather boots as Lyanna made sure that her own cloak, still wet from the snow, was still secure. They headed out of the room and the castle, taking with them a few guards. Once they entered the godswood, the guards respectfully stopped, letting the two Starks enter the godswood.

"How do you feel?" Lyanna questioned Rickard, holding on to his hand so he wouldn't wander off.

Rickard kicked his feet in the snow, sending the white powder flying and wetting his shoes and pants. He plopped onto a log that sat in front of the biggest heart tree, the red eyes of the godswood staring out at them, judging them, watching over them.

"Fine, I guess," Rickard shrugged.

"You know...how do you feel about lessons?" Lyanna asked, taking a seat next to Rickard, in a much more ladylike fashion.

"What kind?" Rickard asked, looking up at his big sister with his big blue eyes.

"About normal things that little boys learn. Sums, reading, ruling..." Lyanna listed.

Rickard huffed and crossed his arms. "I don't want to do all of that."

"Oh? What do you want to do?" Lyanna asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I want to be a maester," Rickard declared with a proud smile.

Lyanna sighed. "Well, Rickard, you do know that, as of now, you are heir to Winterfell."

"I am?" Rickard said incredulously, as if the thought had never before occurred to him.

"You are," Lyanna nodded. "And being heir means that you have to learn how to rule."

"What about Brandon?" Rickard interrogated. "What if he gets married again and has more babies?"

Lyanna cringed inwardly at the memory of what had happened to Brandon's last wife and child. "Well, just in case that doesn't happen, you have to be prepared. You must learn."

Rickard swung his feet over the edge of the log, seeming more interested in that than in the conversation. "Yes, Lyanna."

She stood and took her little brother's hand again, gently guiding him to stand. "Good. You promise you won't tell Brandon about this, right?"

Gods help them if Brandon knew what they had been discussing. He was so adamant that he would marry again and have heirs, though that seemed unlikely to happen after Myra and her niece. Brandon would be likely to kill them both, accusing them of treason and treachery.

"I promise," Rickard nodded, following Lyanna back towards Winterfell. "I promise."

"Good," Lyanna smiled, carding a hand through his hair. "Good, Rickard."

~o~

Later that evening, the three Stark siblings sat around the long table in the Great Hall, eating the meal of lamb that had been prepared for them. The silence that hung over the table was an iron curtain. Finally, Lyanna spoke up, hoping to cut the tension.

"Brandon, how are you feeling today?" Lyanna asked, looking at her older brother with a smile.

"That's KING Brandon to you," Brandon grumbled. He had been in the midst of chewing his lamb chop, and little bits of meat, sauce, and spittle flew from his mouth when he talked. Lyanna blinked a bit, but she didn't otherwise react. She didn't need to anger him. His wrath was immense, though he was still younger than Rickard in his heart.

Lyanna gave another smile. "Of course, Your Majesty."

"That wasn't too hard, now was it?" Brandon smirked, sitting back in his head chair and crossing his arms, as if he had just won some sort of victory. "What do you want, anyways?"

"I asked how you were feeling," Lyanna replied slowly.

"How DARE you speak to me in that tone!" Brandon exclaimed, standing up from his seat and slamming his fists on the table. The plates rattled, Rickard's own plate being knocked off of the floor. The dogs in the hall quickly descended upon the meat. Rickard's lip started to quiver, but Lyanna quickly passed her little brother her unfinished plate, making his chubby little face light up in delight as he dug in.

"Of course, Your Majesty, you must forgive me for my insolence," Lyanna responded, singing the songs she knew he liked to hear. "I'm just a stupid girl who doesn't know anything."

"You would be correct," Brandon said with a smug smile.

The iron curtain descended upon them once again, silence reigning over them. Lyanna looked over at her brother after the long silence. "May I be excused?"

"May I be excused, Your Majesty?" Brandon corrected.

"May I be excused, Your Majesty?" Lyanna echoed.

When Brandon finally nodded, Lyanna stood and exited the hall. She was heading up to her room when the maester of Winterfell stopped her. He was a kindly old man who had been like a second father to Lyanna. He handed her a letter. "From Godric Tyrell, m'lady."

"Thank you," Lyanna said, giving him a quick embrace before going to her bedchambers. She sat on the edge of the large bed and undid the red wax seal of the rose sigil of House Tyrell, unfolding the letter.

To Brandon Stark, King in the North and Lord of Winterfell,

King Axell Tyrell, King in the Reach and Lord of Highgarden, has died. You are cordially invited to the coronation of his son and heir, Godric Tyrell, may the gods bless his reign. Please send your raven as soon as possible.

-House Tyrell

Lyanna looked upon the letter in surprise. It was addressed to her brother, yet the maester had given it to her. She didn't mind, but she was pleased. Not by the news, of course. Just that the maester saw her as more worthy to see the letter before her older brother. She wrote a response back, accepting the invitation. Brandon wouldn't go, nor would Rickard. Neither of them would be willing to go, even if she asked them. And this was Lyanna's chance to prove even further that she was the true Queen in the North. Lyanna started to pack for the journey, but she paused. She would have to have dresses made for the warmer climate of the Reach. It would be the farthest south she had ever gone. Later, Lyanna sent another raven, this time to the Martells. She would visit them while she was down that way, since she didn't know if or when she would ever go that far in the South again. And who knew? Maybe she could find a man to be King in the North at her side.

It was an hour after she had opened the letter and written the two ravens that Lyanna finally settled in her bed, clad in her dark blue nightdress. She blended in perfectly with the sheets of the bed. Though they were coarse, they were comfortable enough. What would she do, she wondered, when she was in the more refined South? A chuckle escaped her lips when she thought of it. Her, in pretty pink Southron dresses, dancing and flitting about in the sun and flowers. Not on her life. Lyanna was a Northerner. The blood of the First Men and the Kings in the North ran through her veins. But she would be excited to see the gardens in the Reach. Despite all that Lyanna had learned in her relatively short time in the world, she knew one thing. Highgarden would be much more beautiful with blue winter roses.

Perhaps she would bring some seeds as a coronation gift.


End file.
